There's something about a November morning

A struggle twixt darkness and the dawning,

And when the Eleventh Day comes around

That feeling seems even more profound.

 

We lucky souls can lie warm in bed

While others before us lie cold and dead

In distant foreign plots of earth

Far from the soil that saw their birth.

 

Deprived of the future their hopes reserved,

Denied the reward their deeds deserved.

Mortal remains beneath white stones

Mark time as nature claims their bones.

 

Each year the November dawn arrives

On the Eleventh Day to mark the lives

Of the legions we salute this day

As our own iives march on their way.

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